


Forever

by sunnysideup



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Inspired by Live Forever and the video, M/M, Ziam AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-25 20:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21711682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunnysideup/pseuds/sunnysideup
Summary: Liam almost missed out on ‘it’.  That one moment that changed his life for the better.(A fic loosely inspired by Live Forever)
Relationships: Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 7
Kudos: 21





	Forever

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta-ed. Any mistakes down to me.

Liam almost missed out on ‘it’. That one moment that changed his life for the better.

On stage and lost in the mundanity of it all. Thinking about whether he should stay out later, get lost in whatever came his way first out of all the addictions and ways to make days and nights pass in a blur or go to sleep and pray that sleep wouldn’t bring those endless nightmares or at least rest his head on a pillow predicting to himself as there was no one else around to tell anyway just how many sheep he’d count before daylight would find its way through his bedroom window again.

Catching himself before he’d somehow accidentally end up singing about those things rather than the lyrics he’d sung over and over every single night since he came here eleven months ago thinking it’d all be so different from how it’s turned out. 

He’d found himself on a familiar bar stool afterwards, karaoke going on behind him and head dipped low, looking at nothing, except past the liquid and to the bottom of the glass like the cliche was, trying so hard to think of anything except how he should just give in and book the plane ticket home and be condemned forever to the feeling of failure that courses through his veins each day.

Forever’s such a terrifying word. 

Draining the drink in his glass, he’d stood up and collided with someone. Thought he’d heard him say something but in that rare moment he’d exchanged eye contact with anyone that day, the man had shaken his head and Liam had walked away.

Stumbled more like. Almost in front of a taxi, ignoring the shouts in the language he’d tried so hard to begin with to learn before realising it was pointless here anyway when every other person spoke English. 

Finding himself on the pebbled beach, staring at his phone debating whether to burden his family again and out at the sea alternately. 

Found himself shivering which was odd because it never got cold here till now, stood up and collided with someone again.

Someone holding out their hand and a jacket.

“Don’t usually make it my business to follow strangers outside and hand them me jacket. Don’t usually bring me jacket along either. Dragged the lads along every night even though that bar isn’t my scene.”

Liam had choked out a bitter laugh.“You think it’s _my_ scene? No thanks, mate.”

He’d practically spat out ‘mate’ and he’d walked away, had kept walking, higher and higher. 

No less cold than he’d been before but trying to fill his head with just the feeling of movement. He started running like he was trying to run from all that was behind him. 

Stopped halfway when the cramps came and when he looked up, ‘it’ still felt as far away. What the ‘it’ was he’d never been able to say, he felt frozen in place. 

This time they didn’t collide.

This time a jacket had covered his shoulders, and someone had sat down on the ground right next to him and said nothing. 

“Am I dead?” Liam had asked then adding as an afterthought, “Or are you like Clarence from that film about that bloke at the end of his tether.”

He’d looked at the man next to him just as he said the next words, “Are you _my_ angel?”

The smile, _that_ smile, as long as Liam’s alive, he’ll never forget it. He’ll never forget the gentle challenge back to him either.

“Are _you_ the bloke at the end of your tether?”

Sometimes kind strangers with the best of intentions tried the same, offering a drink or more and sometimes he’d take up the offer. Knowing they never meant it, would’ve run a mile if he’d been honest for even just a second. 

This one was different. Hadn’t offered him anything except his jacket, hadn’t asked anything except the one question Liam wasn’t prepared for. 

“You don’t wanna know.” he’d replied, ready for the jacket to be taken from his shoulders and the sound of footsteps retreating. 

“I’m not one for asking questions I’m not ready to hear the answer to and actually here are some more for you and I _do_ want to hear the answers ‘Liam the Wolves Wonder’”

He’d accompanied the words and the questions that had followed with another smile and a sincerity Liam didn’t think was possible anymore.

And he’d answered and then promptly spoiled it all by inviting the man back to his poky apartment with a leaky shower and broken toilet. 

It should have been the end, a quick shag, a spliff or worse but as daylight had filtered through the window later that day and as the man, Zayn, had snored lightly next to him, fully clothed on the bed, Liam hadn’t counted sheep, he’d counted his lashes, somehow it wasn’t.

On a cold crisp day in December, Liam had walked out in the arrivals hall in Manchester accompanied by his possessions, all 2 bags of them. 

And a hand that had squeezed back as he’d squeezed it so hard, the only thing stopping him from running back chasing after the ‘it’ that he was sure would have been quite simply the end of everything. 

\- - - - - - - 

That was then, this is now. _This_ is ‘it’.

‘It’ being home. Another town by the sea, another foreign language, if you can count broad Cornish as foreign and it may as well be sometimes. 

‘It’ is the cottage that overlooks the sea, that when you step outside to hang out the washing, all you can hear are the waves crashing against rocks and when it’s windy, the children playing in the sand on the beach down the road.

‘It’ being a bed with a functioning shower and toilet, ‘it’ being books everywhere, ‘it’ being photographs and memories that feel like they’re worth sticking around for. ‘it’ being lazy mornings, old films and burning food they’ve never tried making before while singing 90s RnB to each other when they try and try again. 

‘It’ is the makeshift studio that’s in the loft he and his dad worked on just after this house became his home. 

‘It’ being running each morning but not feeling like he’s running away from something anymore. 

‘It’ is the familiar bubble of nerves in his stomach. ‘It’ being the morning routine and repetition that he was so tired and so afraid of once upon a time but this time, familiarity just brings warmth and security. 

‘It’ is the feeling of wondering whether this’ll be the one time it stops. The habit that gets broken finally. 

‘It’ somehow being replaced with a feeling of well if that happens, just think how good what happens next will be.

‘It’ being the moment he rounds the corner to the tiny car park and the way he can’t stop the stupid smile appearing on his own face at the sight of the knackered old car in front of him.

‘It’ is the way he speeds up, taking him back to how when he was a kid running home would mean there was something exciting at the end of the run, be it a new game or the CD he’d nagged his mum to get him for weeks or his dad with a new piece of equipment and promise of a new gig. 

‘It’ being how he focuses on slowing down each time now, has to start to walk because somehow he has to find the time to prepare to see him each time they do this even though it’s most weekdays.

‘It’ is that after ten minutes when he does see him even with his back turned, it’s like someone stole Liam’s breath from him and it’s accurate because that’s what Zayn does.

‘It’ being that Zayn never turns around but Liam knows he’s smiling, doesn’t have to look at him even as he draws level with him as Zayn stares out at the sea and Liam does the same. 

‘It’ is the memories that come back to him so hard whenever he’s here, the memories of 2 years ago and the moment Liam knew no matter what, this was forever then just 3 months later, they both promised ‘I will’. 

‘It’ being that Zayn suggested this habit even though he’s terrified of heights.

“You’re late.”

“I’m not late, you’re just always keen to knock off work early.”

“Calling me workshy are we?”

“Calling you desperate to get this over and done with each morning.”

“That too.”

“You reckon Clarence is proud of you?”

“Not as proud as he is of you, for sticking it out.”

Liam’s hand finds Zayn’s and squeezes, “Sticking it out’s a whole lot easier when you’ve got someone to make it worthwhile.”

‘It’ is the fact that the words are different each time but Liam could still finish Zayn’s sentences for him, also the way he knows Zayn’s cheeks will redden slightly at Liam’s words even though he knows by now, _has to surely_ , how important he is. 

How Zayn’s infused in his veins now, cut Liam open, end all this right now if it all went wrong with their next steps, he’s as much Zayn as he is Liam and nothing would change, it’d just be different kind of now, new and exciting. 

‘It’ is how they take a step forward, feet close to the edge, how they now look down at the rocks below and all it would take from one of them is a gentle tug and they’d be in freefall.

Except they turn away and Zayn lets out a relieved breath and Liam feels it, feels giddy with how he doesn’t need that rush anymore. 

Gets an altogether different kind of rush back at home in the shower, fifteen minutes later, that’s warm and large enough for two, the slowness of it all, the tenderness that he’d never felt before, the security and the way it’s true that as you get older time passes so fast and yet with Zayn, he doesn’t feel that time will ever run out on them. 

Even when its all over.

‘It’ is how afterwards in bed, he doesn’t count sheep, he doesn’t count Zayn’s eyelashes, how can you count infinity after all?

The only things Liam counts now are his blessings. 

Liam sleeps with ease because all his dreams aren’t filled with running towards something he could never find or put his finger on or worse running away from fear, they’re filled with all the plans they talk of, the excitement, dreams of arguments over who washed the dishes last or worse which may seem strange things to love but he does because he never thought he’d get this. 

He lies on his side, watches the rise and fall of Zayn’s chest, brushes away the little bit of hair that falls across Zayn’s forehead and Zayn’s lips quirk upwards even in his sleep.

Zayn’s magic and Liam knows it, has known it probably from the moment they met.

Turns out Liam was right, Zayn _is_ his angel and _t_ his here and now and that word he felt condemned him to misery only, _forever:_ has a whole new ring to it these days.

All this? Yeah, _this_ is ‘it’. 

**Author's Note:**

> Would love to know what you thought. Thank you for reading xx


End file.
